


A Family Drama in Making

by LigeiaMaloy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Family Drama, Family Issues, Gen, Pre-Canon, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:48:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7908808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo, the responsible and serious son. Genji, the irresponsible and rebellious son.</p>
<p>It's no surprise the two brothers don't always get along.</p>
<p>This is one of their many quarrels,  and their father isn't helping.</p>
<p>TL;DR: Bitching pre-canon brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Family Drama in Making

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pocketnoodl (Pocketnoodl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pocketnoodl/gifts).



> A quick gift for [Pocketnoodl](http://pocketnoodl.tumblr.com/), because it's her fault that I, a passionate Roadrat fangirl, suddenly have Shimada-feels and, even worse, headcanons.
> 
> That's what this short fic basically is: my headcanon of the Shimada brothers and how their life and relationship was before everything went south. 
> 
> [Also on tumblr](http://overwatchmayhem.tumblr.com/post/149668236497/a-family-drama-in-making). Not beta'd.

Hanzo Shimada was a man of duty and principles. He was following his father’s footsteps, growing closer to fill them. As long as he didn’t forget that the family always came first, he would one day walk past his father and lead the clan in his place.

The family’s business and reputation needed a man like him, who, although still young in years, understood the importance of tradition and loyalty.

Hanzo was aware of his position, had ever been since he could think, and took pride in it whenever he sat by his father’s side, and family and business friends called him “the young leader”.

At the age of 25, he possessed the knowledge, the willpower and the dignity he needed to control the Shimada clan one day.

Until then, he had to grit his teeth and learn to accept that none of his fine qualities were enough to control is his brother.

“Genji! Where do you think you’re going!” 

Hanzo was meditating after archery training. It had taken a while until his mind was willing to clear itself of any thoughts when bare feet sneaking over polished wood dragged him back into the plane of reality. He jumped to his feet and hurried to catch his brother in the corridor.

“Father told you to stay at home tonight. He wished, for once, to have dinner with both his sons.” He grabbed his younger by the shoulder and turned him around seconds before Genji reached the front door. Only three years younger than Hanzo, Genji’s were still more boyish than rough, the mischievous grin being one more reason why he was sometimes mistaken for a teenager.

“Tell father I have an important appointment to attend to.” He tilted his head, winking at his older brother.

“What kind of appointment might that be, requiring an atrociousness of an attire like _this_?” Letting go of the shoulder, Hanzo slapped Genji’s chest with the back of his hand, his face pulled into a disapproving grimace. Himself, he preferred traditional Japanese clothes, they were comfortable and appropriate to wear around the house. Formal western outfits weren’t his favorite, but he acknowledged them for their sleek, simple style.

Genji’s blue denim pants were so tight they showed more of his athletics legs than they were hiding. Together with the loose white shirt and a black leather jacket he looked like he jumped out of the horrible western TV shows he liked to watch. The pair of white and black sneakers he was holding in his hand strengthened the image. The worst, though, was the ridiculous baseball cap. There were so many beautiful traditional ways to ornament the hair, Hanzo himself liked to tie his long black hair together with silk ribbons or to put it up with the help of combs. He never understood how Genji could spoil the beautiful hair of the Shimadas with ugly frippery.

“Appointments that care less about the clothes but more for what’s in them,” Genji said without a hint of shame. Jumping on one foot, he put on one shoe after the other. He had been busted by the one obstacle he wanted to avoid the most, so he might as well wear them indoors.

“You’re a disgrace for the clan, Genji!” Hanzo spat, taking a step back.

“And you’re the stick up the butt of the clan, brother. Things always even out. Anyway, Han, unless you want to come along for once and not act like your own grandfather - excuse me. Things to do, people to see.”

Hanzo’s chest was swelling with the anger he refused to release. Ignorant fool! How dared he mocking him after all he and his father were doing for him? But this was not the time and place to grab Genji by his neck and giving him the beating he deserved. Tomorrow, during sword training, Hanzo would show him his place. That would be a lesson his cocky brother would understand. Hanzo inhaled deeply and released his breath. Better. Yet, there was still one thing he could do to put a small dose of balm on his pride.

“No Shimada should be seen with a thing like this!” Before Genji slipped outside, Hanzo came after him with one long, lithe step. Genji saw him coming, bending away from his brother’s hand, but Hanzo expected him to show off his reflexes. He turned around, blocking the door with his back before Genji could throw it shut between them. Genji had dodged one hand -  to fall victim to the other.

With a gracefulness wasted on the situation, Hanzo snatched the cap from his brother’s head - and froze.

“Genji!” The loathed cap dropped to the floor. With wide eyes, Hanzo stared at the horror in front of him.

“Come on, Han. Admit it looks good. Compliments the color of my eyes.” Grinning, Genji ran a hand through his shaggy, green hair. There was a hint of guilt in his smirk, the kind of guilt found in a child who was caught stealing from the pantry.

“Genji,” Hanzo repeated. The sight left his mind blanker than the average meditation session. “Green!” he finally managed to force over his lips, in a tone that might as well have said “vermin!” or “traitor!”.

“I’ve always envied you for your observance, dear brother.” Chuckling, Genji picked up the cap. Instead of putting it on, he shoved it behind his belt. “Caught a second time in a few minutes. And there I thought I excel at stealth.”

“You’re not going out like this!” Hanzo recovered his wits, his anger finding its way into his voice. “Are you out of your mind? How could you! Is even standing around and looking pretty too much for you? How can you be so stupid to trade your handsomeness for this?” He clenched his teeth until his jaws were hurting, and he felt his cheeks burning. His fists were shaking against the impulse to slap his brother, an urge that was only growing as Genji’s grin widened.

 “To escape from the world means that one’s mind is not concerned with the opinions of the world,” he said with the most innocent of smiles, bowing deeply.

“Don’t you dare to abuse the wisdom of Dōgen for your foolishness! Get out of my sight!”

“Your wish is my command. See you tomorrow!” Not in the least fazed by his brother’s rage, Genji waved goodbye to him and, finally, slipped away and through the door.

Hanzo stared after him, his own wisdom large enough to know when he had lost a battle. The anger left as quickly as it had come, and a sense of sadness fell over him. So often he was praised as smart and understanding, yet he didn’t understand what had happened to the sweet little boy who used to be his brother.

“He sure is a handful. You never know what shenanigans he’ll come up with next to upset you,” a deep, amused voice spoke behind him. A cane was clicking on the floor.

“Father!” Hanzo jerked around and fell to his knees, his head bowed in deep respect. “I’m sorry. I failed again.”

“Stand up, son.” His father tapped on his shoulder as he walked past him. “Stand up, and keep me company.”

“Yes, father.” Hanzo hurried to get up and followed his father outside. Instead of heading for the main gate, they followed the gravel path around the house. There was no sign from Genji, and there wouldn’t be any until the early morning. On hot summer days like this, nothing would lure him back inside, away from the shady friendships and embraces he bought with his father’s money. Hanzo grunted. If he hadn’t caught his brother sneaking past him, he would enjoy this beautiful day and the sweet scent of the flowers instead of frowning over Genji’s antics.

“I don’t know what to do with him. No matter what I say, how I say it, he doesn’t listen.” Hanzo sighed while he was walking by his father’s side. Peaceful moments like this were rare. They worked together well and often, but the older Hanzo was becoming, the less time he spent with his father alone, outside work.

“I fear, my dear son, he listens all too well. If he understands what you want from him it’s easier to do just the opposite. My, aren’t the roses beautiful this year?” The old Shimada stopped at a flower arch overgrown with red and white roses, taking a closer look at the flowers.

“You’re probably right.” Hanzo never was sure what he should think of his father’s amused smiles when he was talking about Genji.

“I am. And I have to apologize to you. I know it’s my fault he has become like this. I could never bring myself to discipline him as his character demanded it. Now, you’re suffering because of my failure.”

“Father, that’s not true.” Only, it was. While Hanzo had undergone the drill to become the true heir of the name Shimada, the little monkey had all the time and resources to grow into a fox. With green hair. Hanzo shuddered at the memory.

“We all know it is. You, I, everyone working with or for us. You better take care of your health, son. I don’t want to think of what would happen if we lost you. With Genji leading the clan we might as well put an end to it. Although,” the old man added with a chuckle, “He surprised me. From what I’ve heard he only attends his studies when he needs a nap. Hearing him quote Dōgen almost gives me hope he isn’t lost yet.”

“We’ll lose him soon enough. It’s a matter of time until he gets involved with a woman who rather claims the name Shimada instead of any compensation we might offer.” Hanzo’s back stiffened. His reward for never missing a lesson or neglecting his studies was knowledge, but he still struggled to internalize the wisdom to not bother when his efforts were taken for granted. Genji, however, had never had a problem to take how he was treated for granted. Hanzo blushed in shame when he only thought of the last time Genji just walked up to their father because of a little ‘accident’ he and one of his lady friends had.

_You destroy lives, I create it. It_ _’s called the balance of nature_ , was all Genji had had to say to him when Hanzo confronted him.

“We’d find a solution. That’s part of our business after all,” his father brushed all concerns away. “Genji is a good kid with a smart head on his shoulder, a skilled fighter, and charisma. And he’s still young, son. Give him a few more years and he’ll grow out of it. I’m sure of it.”

His smile almost convinced Hanzo. He glanced at his father’s face. The years were drawing deeper lines as they increased, and at some point, his hair had become more gray than black. The eyes were sharp as ever but underlined by dark shadows. Time and responsibility bent his shoulders. Hanzo was now taller than him. A failed assassination five years ago had left the old Shimada with a limp and aching bones on warm, humid days.

“I hope so,” Hanzo muttered. He couldn’t deny it, his father was aging. But his heart and mind hadn’t lost any of their strength. If Hanzo was sure of anything, it was of his father wielding the power as the head of the clan for at least two decades.

“You better do. Don’t give him up yet, son. He’s still a child. One day, he’ll understand his role in our family, and how important we are for him. And he for us. If not…” The smile disappeared from his father’s face. He picked one half-open rose, twisting it between his fingers, and sighed.

“If he ever does anything even his pathetic father cannot excuse anymore… that can’t be explained away as the foolishness of youth… This might be the first time you’ll have to step in as our leader, my son.” His fingers closed around the blossom, crushing the small petals. Perished before its bloom, the rose was tossed to the ground. “Whether it’s while I’m around or gone. The heart of a brother, or the heart of a true Shimada. Do you understand, Hanzo?” They walked on, stepping over the dead flower.

“I do.” He swallowed hard. He always understood, and for once, the thought he’d not only fit into his father’s footsteps but surpassing him as an honorable Shimada filled him with pain.

“Never give up hope, son. Genji is a good kid, and green hair doesn’t change that.”

“Of course, father.” In a way, his old man was right. What did green hair and a horrible taste in clothes matter to a father’s favorite child, and to a brother who’d have to pay the price for it one day. So, if his efforts to bring Genji to his senses finally showed any effect, good. If not, he’d do what he had to do to protect the clan’s honor. He might have failed as a brother, but he wouldn’t fail as a Shimada.

The family’s business and reputation needed a man like Hanzo, and he had always known it wouldn’t be easy.


End file.
